As the last traveler exited jnana, Rav addressed everyone, “Before our next quantum leap in Never-No-Where Land, it would be beneficial to review what we have learned to date (in case you were wondering, ‘No’ is a homophone). During our sojourn on the Garden Isle, we learned that truth is not realized through blanket acceptance of the pronunciations of ones elders–and dearies, this includes, yours truly. The path leading towards understanding can be pointed out, but you cannot arrive, any the wiser, without actual experience and hard work. We learned from the two islands that the search of truth requires the intentional dividing of attention and effort so to explore all sides of the question. Moreover, truth will not be found unless we place our current answer to the side and explore without demanding the kind of fruit at the end. Everyone agree or not?”
“Rav, what about the rose garden and the stone fence,” asked Opal?
“Good question, little lady grasshopper. The roses represent the hidden Truths of this Universe and the stone wall is that part of you which prevents crossing over into such Truths. The stone wall is composed of all of your mainly dysfunctional ego-jinn jockeying for moments to hoard time with your ergoegotic center. Rid yourself of your need for self, other than as a tool to operate in the mundane, and you are in!”
“Rav, I don’t understand the logic of the Buddha’s advice,” piped up Amethyst.
“Think back to the words of Ichi-san. He explained Lord Buddha’s logic system using quantum mechanics as a guide. Buddha logic only seems funny to us for we were taught western logic and the excluded middle. I talked about this before, remember? Any other questions? OK, then time for more adventure, tap, tap, tap.”
And with that the travelers bodies turned to smoke, contracting to a central point, and disappeared from the Zen garden.
Poof . . . the travelers found themselves standing next to the disordered tea table of the Mad Hatter and his eclectic friends. Fortunately, Alice was in attendance, as it was a most dreadful day for her. So dreadful that she needed to be with her quaint friends in Wonderland and behind the Looking Glass–it was her real birthday and no one felt like celebrating upon such a maudlin day. So the normally disorganized, motley, and rabid tea drinkers tried to maintain a modicum of rationale and linked thinking.
Trying to force a smile, she saw that the tea-goers had some most unusual visitors. As best look as she could, she could not stabilize her visuals. Everyone kept coming and going. “Oh, my,” said Alice, “natal day non-celebrations are so very, very unnerving. I am going to have a migraine, I do believe. Why do we have to drink coffee when it is one of our real birthdays?”
The White Rabbit put down his teacup, saying, “Relax, dearie. Now, you know the real reason we do not, and I mean Do Not, celebrate natal days. A single natal day tea party versus 364.242181 solar, mean non-birthday tea parties, do the math, dearie. A year of daily tea parties last 20 min and 24.5 sec if we switched to sidereal years. Can’t imagine drinking tepid coffee every day. So, coffee it is for one day.”
The Mad Hatter picked up a plate of shortbread biscuits and offered it to Alice, “Sweetie, eat one of these and you will feel better and things will begin to stand still. But, please take the moving one for the still ones will just not do–even if you did a do-do and ate two.”
Alice took a biscuit, thanking the Mad Hatter. Taking a bite, she notice that the visitors stopped moving about, “Now, this is better.”
Alice, feeling better said, “Oh my! What a poor hostess I am. I forgot to invite our guests to our tea party. Make way everyone, make room, bring more chairs.” And magically, the tea table grew and grew, with a woody moan or two from over-stretching, until sufficient space and chairs for available to seat all the travelers. “Sit, please.” And everyone sat with full cups of bergamot tea and more shortbread biscuits than they could eat, nonmoving biscuits that is! Though, the travelers succeeded in downing quite a few as they had not eaten for since they left.
Rav, finding himself dressed in chain mail and yellow tunic (in fact everyone was dressed as Looking Glass characters), stood and said, “Hello, new friends, allow me to offer a toast to all of you.” And as soon as Rav finished the word ‘toast’ and before he could finish his sentence, there appeared upon a plate, before each and every party goer, a scrumptious-buttery piece of warm cinnamon-sugar toast. Everyone was thrilled as this was their very first toast, gobbling down the delicacy everyone swore that from now on, they will make toasts on everyone’s real birthday as a good booby prize.